


It's Just A Kiss Away

by FelicisQuill2



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Braven is a tinder box, Canon Compliant, Doctor Clarke, Drinking Games, Dystopia, Episode: s04e06 We Will Rise, Episode: s04e07 Gimme Shelter, F/M, Fluff, Hurt Bellamy, Ice Mechanic if you squint, Jealous Clarke, Never Have I Ever, Nightblood - Freeform, Rellamy references, Romance, Season/Series 04, Smut, Speculation, becca's island, black rain, day trip take 3, fliritng, grounder attacks, science island
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-05
Updated: 2017-03-05
Packaged: 2018-09-28 10:21:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10092044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FelicisQuill2/pseuds/FelicisQuill2
Summary: “All right, all right, I’m next,” Miller says. “Never have I ever,” he gazes around the circle, rubbing a hand across his jaw. “Slept with anyone here.”It’s no surprise to Clarke when Emori and Murphy drink from the bottle, but when Raven reaches out her hand for it, an iron weight drops into her stomach. She does the math quickly.It couldn’t be Miller, obviously. And Raven has never been around Roan. She’s hated Murphy for ages. He’s the reason her leg is so damaged, after all. Something seems different between them now, easier, but it definitely could never have been a sexual thing. Which leaves . . . right. Bellamy.Raven, buzzed and oblivious, takes a drink from the bottle before trying to pass it to Bellamy.But he ignores her.He’s looking at Clarke.~~~~~Clarke, Bellamy, and Roan go on a day trip (!) to bring the hydrazine safely to Raven, Abby and Jackson on Becca's Island, so they can make rocket fuel. Creating nightblood in Zero-G's isn't their biggest issue at the moment, though.





	1. Fireside Chats

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bella_my_clarke](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bella_my_clarke/gifts).



> The whole concept of the hiatus always makes me sad. I am happy, however, we only have to wait one extra week between 405 and 406. Right now, there's only an extended promo, a super short press release, and some still images to work with, but that didn't stop me from speculating on where the story's going. And of course, any new story lines bring about new opportunities for Bellarke to admit their love for each other.
> 
> Inspired from a conversation with the talented @bella_my_clarke. Sorry it's not exactly the "iconic" location idea, but it is the first kiss prompt with some fun throwbacks to the past. :)
> 
> If you have an idea for a Bellarke story you'd like me to write, shoot it my way! As always, comments are life, and I love getting them!

_“I got these fresh eyes, never seen you before like this_

_My God, you're beautiful._

_It's like the first time when we open the door_

_Before we got used to usual._

_It might seem superficial, stereotypical, man_

_You dress up just a little, and I'm like, "Ohhh, damn."_

_So suddenly, I'm in love with a stranger,_

_I can't believe she's mine._

_Now all I see is you with fresh eyes, fresh eyes._

_So suddenly I'm in love with a stranger,_

_I can't believe she's mine, yeah_

_And now all I see is you with fresh eyes, fresh eyes._

_Appreciation, well, it comes and it goes,_

_But I, I'll ride that wave with you._

_It's human nature to miss what's under your nose,_

_Til you, til you remind a fool.”_

_“Fresh Eyes,” Andy Grammer_

 

The meadow contains enough hills to leave Clarke gripping the rover door so tightly her knuckles glow white against the light pink hue of her skin. Her eyes rapidly scan the horizon for any potential threat to their smooth, safe passage. The sun beats down on the dirt-packed road, as Bellamy glides easily around a ditch. Off to the right about fifty yards away, she spots a patch of wild irises beginning to unfurl, their bold blues and purples a burst of color against the endless green. Spring is coming. And they are running out of time.

 

The husky tenor of Roan’s voice from behind her snaps her back to reality.

 

“And this, Raven you called her? She’s going to use the hydrazine to make rocket fuel? And then do what? Spread her wings and take a joy ride to the moon?” he laughs at his own stupid joke.

 

Clarke glances over her shoulder at him, lips pressed together in a thin line. Her gaze travels past him though, to the massive, bright blue barrels bolted down to the floor to minimize jolting. The liquid inside, hydrazine, is clear but deadly. One false move that puts the liquid in contact with anything outside the barrels specially designed to carry it, and it’s game over. Monty warned her of this several times before they packed up the rover to leave.

********

_“You’re about to drive the last ten barrels of hydrazine known to man through hostile territory, over uneven roads, where one serious bump would cause an explosion that would wipe out mankind’s only remaining chance for survival,” Monty stared at her skeptically._

_“What could possibly go wrong?” Roan offered with a straight face._

_Grounders. That was what could go wrong. A few hours into the drive, Bellamy noticed men flitting through the trees, wielding swords and bows and arrows. They were what remained of Trikru’s warrior forces, left to protect the perimeter of their land after Ice Nation slaughtered the rest of their people in Polis._

_“Clarke, get down!” Bellamy had roared, as a dark-haired man directed an arrow at her head from amidst the branches of a nearby oak tree. In a second, Bellamy’s gun was in his hands and aimed between the metal chinks in the window, pointed squarely at the aggressor._

_“Don’t shoot!” Roan yelled out the window. “It’s me you’re angry with! I am Roan, King of Azgeda and Commander of the Coalition. I ended the alliance with Trikru, but it was a mistake. I was wrong. I am sorry for the loss of your brave warriors in Polis. They died an honorable death. I was operating on incomplete information. The alliance has been reinstated!” he called out loudly over the moan of the stalling engine. A small pack of five Trikru fighters quickly flanked the vehicle, moving slowly around it in a calculated circle._

_Clarke’s fingers shook slightly against the dark center console as she listened to their footsteps. Bellamy reached out and squeezed them briefly with his warm ones before pivoting in his seat, aiming his gun right at a tall man moving toward the side of the rover, near one of the barrels._

_“Stay back!” he shouted at the stranger._

_Roan said something Clarke couldn’t make out in Trigedasleng. Then she heard the click of the rover’s door as he drew his sword. But not before he dropped a gun from the vehicle’s arsenal onto her seat._

_“Shoot to kill if you have to,” Roan muttered before flinging himself out into the dusty road._

_It all happened so fast. Roan began to talk to one of the men whose face was smeared with dirt, his hair pulled back into a thick ponytail. The man began gesturing wildly, angrily, pointing again and again at the rover. But then the tall grounder nearest Bellamy lunged forward, the tip of his silver blade pointed toward the edge of the barrel peaking through the open-air windows. He missed the barrel, jumping back at Clarke’s “No!” and his blade cut across Bellamy’s forearm instead._

_Clarke didn’t think. She just pointed through the window and pulled the trigger. Her aim was better than expected, the bullet slicing into the grounder’s chest. He collapsed onto the dirt, crumpling like a wilted flower as thick blood sprouted from his mouth. Two of his fellows, both young boys around fifteen or so, took one look at their fallen comrade and sprinted off into the woods._

_The other two grounders immediately pulled their swords on Roan, inching closer to him, baring their teeth._

_“Damn it!” Bellamy cursed low, pressing his right hand against his injured left arm._

_“Oh God . . . I’m sorry!” Clarke cried out, distraught._

_“Shhh,” Bellamy hushed her. “It’s all right. You were protecting our cargo.” He had one hand clutching the driver’s door handle, beginning to pull it open, and both eyes fixed on Roan._

_But the sword fight was over within moments. Roan practically danced across the ground, yelling something about how this was pointless and a waste of good men as his sword flew through the air, making a terrible clinking noise as it made contact with the others’ blades. He battled them two-on-one, almost effortlessly. When it was over, both Trikru warriors lay lifeless on the ground._

********

“We already told you, your _majesty,”_ Bellamy replies, staring Roan down through the rearview mirror. “Raven needs to send a small rocket into space long enough to make nightblood in a zero-gravity environment. And if you just would have trusted Sky Crew about why we were making nightblood in the first place, we could have avoided that ambush back there and not killed more innocent people!”

 

Roan looks murderous and is about to reply when –

 

“Bellamy! The road! Pay attention. One pothole, and we all get blown sky high,” Clarke interrupts, throwing her hand over his on the wheel and yanking it to the left to avoid a badly broken piece of asphalt.

 

Two hours later, they finally encounter the only bridge linking the mainland to Becca’s Island. It appears rickety and unstable, its gray wire supports swaying lightly in the breeze.

 

“Are you sure this is the only way to get there?” Bellamy demands of Roan, pointing his thumb over his shoulder. “With the hydrazine I mean.”

 

“Well, it’s either this or build a ramp, drive over it at full speed, and levitate our way across the water,” Roan snaps. “Your call.”

 

Clarke shoots Bellamy a pointed look. “The bridge will be fine.”

When the choppy teal waves are safely behind them and Becca’s triangular lab door comes into focus on the horizon like the gateway to another dimension, Clarke allows her shoulders to drop with a deep breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding in.

 

Raven is struggling to move swiftly through the tall grasses toward the rover before Bellamy even pulls up the parking brake.

 

“Finally something you didn’t screw up, Bellamy!” she claps him on the shoulder as he gets out of the rover. She grins widely and moves to the back of the vehicle to inspect the barrels.

 

“Nice to see you too, Raven,” he returns, a reply lost somewhere between sarcasm and sincerity.

 

Abby is right behind Raven, walking assuredly and quick to wrap Clarke in a hug. But when she steps away to slide her arms loosely around Bellamy’s shoulders and pulls him toward her, he almost jerks back in surprise. No one has hugged him like his mother in a very long time. He catches Clarke watching them almost dreamily, her face soft and without the worry lines that are becoming permanent residents of her visage.

 

“Thank you for delivering my daughter here safely,” Abby whispers to him before pulling away as seamlessly as she approached him.

 

“King Roan!” she turns to greet him warmly. “You must be starving. Please follow me up to the lab, and I’ll make sure you have something to eat before you all head back. And Clarke, baby, there’s an _amazing_ tile bathroom here right out of the pages of those old _Architectural Digest_ magazines we used to look at on the Ark, do you remember?” she smiles kindly at her daughter. “You have to check it out!”

 

“Ok, mom. But maybe first Bellamy wants to wash up from the drive?” she glances over at him, and he blinks at her a few times, but then nods.

 

“Yeah, yeah, that’d be great,” he says.

 

“Perfect,” Abby replies, before steering Roan up the hill toward the lab.

 

“Raven!” she shouts out over her shoulder before she reaches the highest ridge. “Don’t you even think about touching that hydrazine! Murphy, Jackson, and Miller are coming down in a few minutes to help Bellamy and Roan move it. Do you hear me? Because I’m dead serious. Don’t be reckless.”

 

“I heard you,” Raven suddenly comes back into view, frowning a little.

 

“What was that?”

 

“I HEARD YOU, ABBY!” Raven yells loudly.

 

“All right then,” Abby calls back down, clapping her hands together. “Plenty of time to experiment tomorrow!”

*******

The bathroom really _is_ exquisite. Clarke steps out of the forest green tiled shower and onto a plush rug still in awe of the intense water pressure, catching a glimpse of the silvery half-moon from the skylight above. The steam from the hot water fogged up the mirror, and she runs one hand over the cool blue-green marble counter surrounding the bottomless basin as she waits for her reflection to emerge. The girl looking back at her is decidedly careworn, with light violet bruising under her eyes from lack of sleep and a skinnier torso than she recalls having in space. She cards her fingers through her blonde hair, combing it gently over her shoulders. It’s starting to grow out again. Quickly twisting it into a simple braid, she reaches into her worn leather medical bag for an elastic band to secure it before turning to find a change of clothes and toothbrush.

 

She knows she doesn’t mask her surprise well when she steps into the bedroom beyond the bathroom and sees Bellamy sitting in a chair there, waiting for her. He bathed before her, but small droplets of water still cling to his black curls.

 

He clears his throat loudly.

 

“Uh, you said you wanted to rewrap my arm?” his words float into the silence.

 

“Right, of course!” she hurries forward with her medical bag and begins rifling through it.

 

As she begins removing the blood-spattered bandage she applied hastily on the road, she feels his eyes on her, heating up her neck.

 

“You look nice . . . with the braid I mean. And your shirt – I like the light blue.”

 

She laughs nervously, suddenly very aware that she didn’t button the top two buttons of her blouse, and he’s probably getting a decent look straight down it. “Thanks,” she says quietly, eyes never leaving his arm. “Nothing like a shower to make you feel alive again.” But her pounding heart is doing more than enough to prove she’s alive in this moment.

 

********

“I’m glad you’re ok, you know, you and Kane,” Clarke tells Bellamy as they make their way down to their friends’ campfire. “I didn’t know how far they’d let it play out.”

 

“You know Roan. Nothing like using hostages for his power plays,” he replies drily, arm brushing her shoulder as he reaches out and pulls a tree limb out of their way.

 

“Echo is the vicious one,” she tries again. “Slicing someone’s throat doesn’t faze her at all.”

 

He’s silent for a few seconds as they struggle through the dense underbrush.

 

“Yeah, but I think she feels she owes me after Mount Weather. And we might have to use that to our advantage one day.”

 

Clarke narrows her eyes a little, but she stays quiet as they approach the group.

 

The sounds of their friends’ whooping laughter makes her smile despite herself. She watches Murphy pass a frosted white bottle over to Miller – Monty’s moonshine, undoubtedly – and notices it’s already taken a hit as the clear liquid sloshes around.

 

Roan is sitting adjacent to Raven, nodding along haphazardly as she talks rapidly, eyes bright and hands careening around in front of her face. Clarke would bet her life he has no idea what she’s talking about. As they get closer, Raven’s words confirm this theory.

 

“Roan! ROW-IN. You don’t know what you’re missing, dude! I mean . . . floating weightless, through space, all those stars. Those bright, beautiful stars surrounding you like a blanket. And then there’s the Earth. You know? Home. But you’re not _on it_ , do you know what I mean? You’re watching it from a distance like it’s a jewel in a necklace, and . . . ”

 

He holds up his hand, “You’re right – I can’t appreciate a real spacewalk. But, I’m more of a boots-on-the-ground kind of guy,” he smirks at her and accepts the moonshine bottle from Miller.

 

“Ah! That’s a good one, Reyes,” Murphy cuts in. “Never have I ever taken an illegal spacewalk.”

 

Raven shoves him hard in the shoulder.

 

“I take it all back, Murphy. You’re still a dick,” but she drinks from the bottle Roan passes her nonetheless, making a face as it burns her throat.

 

“Hate to break up the party,” Bellamy cuts in, “But we’re going to need to get going, Roan. It’s a long drive back.”

 

“Come on, man! One drink. The world’s not ending tonight,” Miller says, slapping at Bellamy’s knee. His eyes are shining like orbs, and he laughs a little too loud. “We never hang out anymore.”

 

“I know. I’m sorry, but I’ve got to drive back tonight. I’m the _only one who can_ ,” he looks pointedly at Roan.

 

“One drink’s not going to hurt a strapping lad like yourself,” Murphy smirks at him.

 

“Yeah, you’ve got to celebrate a little, Bellamy!” Emori chimes in, languidly stroking Murphy’s hair where it falls along his neck. “We may have rocket fuel tomorrow!”

 

“Oh, there’s _no_ may about it,” Raven shoots back. “We will have rocket fuel. Don’t you remember, Clarke?” she smiles radiantly up at her friend. “I can make it go boom. Or have you lost faith in me, too?”

 

“Not a chance,” Clarke says easily, sitting down next to Raven on her log. “I’d still pick you first.”

 

“Damn right,” Raven nods approvingly, throwing her arm around Clarke’s shoulders and taking another swig from the bottle.

 

Clarke glances over at Bellamy, shrugging slightly. He sighs, but his lips turn up into the tiniest hint of a smile.

 

“All right, I fold,” he throws out his arms as if about to take a graceful bow on stage. “Move over, Miller,” he drops into the space beside his friend, who slides across the wooden log to make room.

 

“That’s more like it!” Miller claps him on the back. “So who’s next?”

 

“That’d be me,” Raven says. “Never have I ever . . . ” her eyes flicker around the campfire until they pass over Bellamy. She raises her eyebrows suggestively. “Had a ménage a trois.”

 

“Really?” he grunts, but drinks from the bottle Raven passes him, knuckles white as he grips it hard.

 

“If the shoe fits, Prince Charming,” she sings out sweetly, while a genuine grin spreads across Roan’s face and Miller slaps his knee, snorting.

 

“Right for the jugular. ‘Atta girl, Raven!” Miller calls out.

 

“Hey now, no judgment, we’ve got to get our kicks where we can,” Murphy interjects. “Am I right, Clarke?”

 

She feels heat in her cheeks that has nothing to do with the flames leaping before her.

 

“Sure, like abandoning your post when you’re supposed to be standing guard for one of your _friends_ in Polis,” she replies without missing a beat, making a face at him.

 

“Touché. Douche move. I’ll give it to you,” Murphy relents. He tips the bottle Bellamy passes him in her direction in a salute.

 

“All right, all right, I’m next,” Miller says. “Never have I ever,” he gazes around the circle, rubbing a hand across his jaw. “Slept with anyone here.”

 

It’s no surprise to Clarke when Emori and Murphy drink from the bottle, but when Raven reaches out her hand for it, an iron weight drops into her stomach. She does the math quickly.

 

_It couldn’t be Miller, obviously. And Raven has never been around Roan. She’s hated Murphy for ages. He’s the reason her leg is so damaged, after all. Something seems different between them now, easier, but it definitely could never have been a sexual thing. Which leaves . . . right. Bellamy._

 

Raven, buzzed and oblivious, takes a drink from the bottle before trying to pass it to Bellamy.

 

But he ignores her.

 

He’s looking at Clarke.

 

She can sense it, but she won’t give him the satisfaction of meeting his eyes.

 

“Go on, take it. It takes two to tango, Blake,” Raven shakes the bottle at him nonchalantly, the liquid contents swooshing with a satisfying sound. “No hard feelings.”

 

Roan looks back and forth between them, and Clarke swears she hears a low chuckle emanate from him as he slides his hands across the tops of his thighs. Bellamy appears shell-shocked and cards his fingers through his hair, making it look windblown. Finally, he accepts the bottle Raven insistently pushes toward him.


	2. Gimme Shelter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke comes face to face with her emotions. And then she comes face to face with Bellamy.

_“There was a time when I would have believed them_

_If they told me you could not come true_

_Just love’s illusion_

_But then you found me, and everything changed._

_And I believe in something again._

_My whole heart_

_Will be yours forever_

_This is a beautiful start_

_To a lifelong love letter._

_Tell the world that we finally got it all right._

_I choose you._

_I will become yours, and you will become mine._

_I choose you._

_I choose you._

_We are not perfect,_

_We’ll learn from our mistakes_

_As long as it takes_

_I will prove my love to you._

_I am not scared of the elements._

_I am under-prepared, but I am willing_

_And even better_

_I get to be the other half of you.”_

_~Sara Bareilles, “I choose you”_

 

Clarke is looking at the ground, pointing her toes toward each other. Nobody says anything for several seconds, until a soft “Oh” escapes Emori’s lips.

 

“What?” Raven swivels around on her perch, looking at them all in turn, clearly drunk now, but only Emori dares to look back at her. The others have averted their eyes and appear to have gone temporarily deaf. “I’m the only one of us here who’s risking my life going back to space this week to make nightblood. What the hell do you have to be so weird ab—”

 

But then catching Roan’s gaze, she turns her head to Clarke and notices her friend biting her lip so hard a tiny drop of ruby red blood hits her porcelain skin. “Right,” she says to no one in particular. “I’m an ass.”

 

“Clarke—” Bellamy’s voice sounds choked and strained, but Clarke’s already on her feet, brushing off bits of pine needles from her pants.

 

“I’m – going to head up to bed. Long drive, and I’m tired. Good night. Be careful on the trip home, Roan,” she says politely before turning on her heel.

 

“Clarke!” Bellamy’s voice is more insistent now as he stands up. “Wait.”

 

She finally looks at him, face calm, as she waves her right hand vaguely like she’s brushing off an insect. “It’s ok,” she shrugs a little. “Drive safe.” She offers him a half smile, but he can see the shimmer of tears in her eyes reflected by the firelight before she starts her trek back up the hill.

 

“Hold on,” Raven throws a restraining arm outward, squinting her eyes shut as she struggles to clamber to her feet. Roan rises to help her, one hand on her waist and the other under her arm. She looks across the fire at Bellamy, a little color pooling in her tanned cheeks. “I can fix this. Just give me a few minutes with her. It’s my fault. I’m sorry.”

 

Bellamy purses his lips at her, but says nothing. She notices the muscle in his jaw clench.

 

“Awkward . . . ” Murphy lets the word slip into the wind.

 

********

Clarke hears the heavy footfalls behind her but keeps walking, knocking angrily at reaching branches, which try to wind around her arms as she passes.

 

“Come on, Clarke! Please stop, or at least slow down! Don't be upset. It didn't mean anything. It was a lifetime ago—” Raven huffs as she struggles to keep up with the back of Clarke’s blonde head. “I thought you and Finn had run away together a few days before the grounders attacked our camp. I was angry. I talked him into it!”

 

She swings her braced leg out with effort, panting, until finally getting close enough to reach for Clarke’s biceps with her fingertips. Clarke instantly swats her hand away.

“Clarke, please. We've never let any of this stuff come between us before. We're stronger than this, aren't we?” Raven pleads over her shoulder.

 

Her friend whirls around, yellow braid nearly striking Raven in the face.

 

“I thought we were, too,” she says coldly.

 

Raven’s hopeful face falls.

 

“You don't mean that.”

 

“I don't know what I mean! I’m not as good at using language as a weapon as you are!” Her voice rises uncharacteristically, as she throws up her arms. “I just know I wouldn't have done it to you--I walked away from Finn the moment I found out about you. I never wanted us to be two stupid girls fighting over a guy.”

 

The look of pity on Raven’s face makes her want to yell in frustration.

 

“But we never did fight,” Raven says gently. “You were never with Bellamy. I know you two lead together, and he’s your best friend. But, Clarke, it’s not exactly the same thing.”

 

“Don’t you think I know that?” Clarke argues back roughly.

 

“Well then what is it? Please just tell me because I want to fix it. But my head’s a little fuzzy, and you’re going to have to help me out,” Raven’s last two words slur into each other. She blinks rapidly, trying to clear her head of the alcohol.

 

“I just wanted one thing that was mine,” Clarke mumbles, but it’s too low to be heard.

 

“What was that?”

 

“Forget it, Raven. I’m sorry! I’m sorry you think I ran off with Finn that day. But it was never true. I was headed out hunting with Myles, and he signed himself up to join us. I didn’t even want him to come! And I’m sorry for getting upset and causing drama right now. It’s all my fault, ok? Now will you leave me alone?”

 

Raven’s lip curls into a half sneer. “Not until you tell me why you’re so upset!” she sparks back. “We’re talking about something that happened ages ago and was totally insignificant. I swear to you. _I_ came to _his_ tent. _I_ propositioned _him_. He was just trying to keep me from leaving camp because I was too smart a brain to waste!”

 

“Oh, so it was a political move!” Clarke yells, taking a step closer to Raven, who stumbles backward when she feels the anger radiating off her friend.

 

Raven falters, looking off into the rustling tree branches.

 

“No. Well . . . maybe, I don't know,” she sputters. “I'm just saying it meant nothing to me at all, and we managed to stay friends, and--”

 

“Can you just shut up, Raven!” Clarke barks. “Just stop talking.”

 

“Clarke . . . ” Raven pleads once more, softer now. “I'm sorry, I really am. I didn’t ever mean to upset you. I'm trying to help! If you'd just give me a minute to put it all together in my head, you know . . . the moonshine never agrees with me, so I can remember better . . .”

 

“I don’t want you to remember better! Uggghh!” Clarke explodes, the noise in her throat guttural. The tears are spilling over now. She flings up her hands, unable to hold back all the worry and anxiety and raw emotion the past three weeks have forced her to face all over again since she shut down the City of Light and has been back at Bellamy’s side. No matter what precautions she tries to take, he continues to land in one dangerous situation after another.

 

“Calm down!” Raven demands as the bolt of a migraine pain hits her head, causing her to massage her temple until it passes a few seconds later. She sighs deeply. “Look, I know you didn’t expect to hear that, and maybe I should have told you. But you were never that concerned about the girls traipsing in and out of Bellamy’s tent before, so I figured why give you unnecessary drama? How is this any different?”

 

Clarke is completely silent for several long seconds, but then she purses her lips together, shaking her head before erupting -

 

“It's different because I love him! Ok?” she whispers fiercely, trying to keep her voice low. 

 

She expected to be startled when she said it out loud of the first time. But then again she expected to say it to Bellamy, not Raven. But as she stares hard into her friend's surprised face, daring her to look away, she just feels propelled to action. Like the release of this secret she's tried to hide so desperately for so long has freed her at last.

 

Raven lets out a short, but audible, gasp. Her mouth falls open uncharacteristically for a second before she snaps it closed. She nods carefully, exhaling.

 

“Right,” she says slowly, “Right. The one time I miss something . . .”

 

But then a smile breaks out across her face, and she’s reaching for Clarke’s forearms.

 

“But this is good, Clarke! You have to tell him! I really think –“

 

“Girls?” Abby’s voice beckons from the sloping hill above them before she emerges like a ghost from the darkness. She’s holding up a radio. “Where’s Bellamy?”

 

“He’s by the fire with the others,” Raven points. “What’s up?”

 

“It’s Kane,” Abby replies, gesturing to the radio. “He wants to talk to him, but nothing to worry about. He said things at Arkadia are ok, all things considered.”

 

She smiles at them, touching each of their shoulders briefly before turning away. Through the trees, Clarke watches as Bellamy moves quickly to Abby, taking the radio from her outstretched arm. He turns in the direction of the parked rover, speaking into the device, as Abby heads back to the lab. They’re too far away to hear anything. The line between Clarke’s eyebrows instantly creases, and she begins hurrying toward the edge of the camp, Raven following more slowly behind her.

 

Murphy is kicking dirt onto the fire when they arrive. “Guess the party’s over,” he declares.

 

Roan reaches out to steady a wobbling Raven, who, following behind Clarke too quickly, almost trips over an upturned cluster of gold-gray mushrooms growing out of the ground.

 

“Easy there, space girl,” he says to her, wrapping an arm around her waist. “Where are you staying? I’ll walk you back.”

 

“No,” Miller cuts in, somewhat aggressively. “ _I’ll_ walk Raven back,” he says, coming over and bending down slightly to allow Raven to sling her arm around his neck for support.

 

“As you wish,” Roan returns, palms up in surrender.

 

A minute later, Clarke sees Bellamy’s broad shoulders moving amongst the trees, walking back and forth across the graveled path. She moves into the woods to meet him, listening to the sound of water lapping up on the shore in the distance.

 

“What’s wrong?” she asks him immediately when she gets within earshot.

 

He gazes into her blue eyes, looking torn between telling the truth and a comfortable lie.

 

“The black rain,” he says. “The first wave came this afternoon. Everyone’s all right-” he says hurriedly at the look on Clarke’s face. “But people are angry and scared now that we’ve lost our main source of protection.”

 

Clarke nods.

 

“Kane needs backup to deal with Ilian and wants me to get back home.”

 

She’s perfectly still, looking past him out at the star-filled sky over the tranquil water. There are no signs of clouds here. She expected this, as difficult as it is to hear. They all knew the storm clouds would arrive at Arkadia sooner or later. She turns to look up toward Becca’s lab where her mother is researching the science of nightblood transfusions with Jackson.

 

“He didn’t tell my mom.” It’s a statement, not a question.

 

“He didn’t want her to worry while you’re all focused on the space mission,” Bellamy’s eyes soften as he steps a little closer to her. His hand moves up as if to touch her arm, but then he lets it fall back to his side. “You can tell Abby and the others as soon as the rocket fuel is made, ok? But distracting them with this now, especially when everyone’s ok—” he trails off.

 

“Sure, you’re right,” Clarke returns smoothly.

 

His hand moves to the back of his neck briefly, and he turns away before swiveling back toward her and letting out a warm breath of air. It breezes by her cheek, leaving the tangy scent of moonshine behind.

 

“Look, Clarke, I’m sorry I never told you,” he offers.

 

“You don’t owe me any explanations, Bellamy. It’s fine, really. I was just surprised,” she replies, voice level and eyes tracking over his face with effort.

 

“It was a really long time ago when we first landed. Raven was upset because of . . . you and Finn, actually,” he clears his throat hesitantly. “She came into my tent wanting to forget about it all, and . . . ”

 

“It’s ok,” Clarke cuts him off, voice louder, eyes open wide to make her point. “I’m fine. We’re fine,” she smiles at him. “I understand.”

 

His dimples emerge as he returns the gesture. “Good,” Bellamy says.

 

Her chest catches tightly, like she can’t draw in a full breath. He lets his hand rest on her shoulder – which drops its tension as soon as she feels the warm weight – briefly before using it to gesture toward the campfire.

 

“I’ve got to go get Roan. We need to leave tonight.”

 

“Kane says you can’t even get a few hours of sleep before you’re driving again all day? Doesn’t anybody care about _you_?” she asks huffily.

 

They simultaneously freeze as the impact of her words sink in.

 

“We _are_ sort of running out of time, princess,” he quirks his eyebrows at her, and she offers him a half-smile.

 

She motions toward his arm in an attempt to cover her embarrassment.

 

“At least let me secure those stitches better before you go. I didn’t do the best job before.”

 

“Clarke, you did a good job. My arm’s fine,” he says gently. “I have to go. There’s more that can be salvaged from the fire, and Monty’s team needs help sealing up the rest of the buildings. Plus, I’m worried about—”

 

“Octavia,” Clarke supplies for him easily. “Right, you should be with her,” she nods. “I get it. People want Ilian to pay for the fire, and we can’t let the mob rule. You’re right, sorry. I’m just not thinking clearly.”

 

“You’re always thinking clearly,” he jokes, digging his hands into his pockets. “You know I won’t be useful here. You already have a guard team. I’d just get in the way.”

 

A pained expression crosses her face as she looks up at him and bites her lip, tilting her head to the side.

 

“You’re never in the way, Bellamy,” she hums it softly, stepping closer to him. On a brazen whim, she places her palm over the space on his chest where his heart’s beating, steady and strong. “I really need you to be careful this time, ok? Try not to get captured – will you? Because I don’t think Roan’s going to buy that I’m willing to sacrifice you instead of giving into whatever the grounders want again. If he ever did the first time . . . ” She looks sheepishly up at him from under her thick eyelashes.

 

“WHAT?” Bellamy’s eyes bore into her own as he jumps backward. “What did he make you promise?”

 

She shuffles her feet in the dirt.

 

“They had you and Kane captured. I did what needed to be done for the sake of diplomacy,” she huffs back, hands on her hips.

 

“Which was?” he demands.

 

“I offered him half the spaces on the Ark for his people,” she meets his gaze fiercely.

 

“Damn it, Clarke! I’m not worth fifty of our people’s lives.” He runs his palm over his jawline.

 

“To me you are,” she says in the smallest voice possible, looking down at the rough weeds popping out of the rich dirt below their feet.

 

“Clarke,” her name so often sounds tangled in his throat. “I’m just one person.”

 

“Maybe,” she whispers, taking in the freckles dusted across the bridge of his nose. He'd drawn nearer to her while she looked away. “But you’re my person.”

 

She holds his gaze a moment longer than usual, but then flicks her eyes to the outline of Becca’s lab in the distance. “Besides,” a return of brisk professionalism suddenly infuses her voice. “The Ark’s ruined now anyway, so my deal with Roan doesn’t matter. We have to focus on making nightblood to save as many people as possible and hope it’s enough.”

 

He rummages in his jacket pockets and shifts a little bit, leaning toward her. “What if it’s not enough?”

 

His spoken fear lingers in the air between them.

 

“We can’t think like that, Bellamy. We have to give everyone something to live for. Some hope.”

 

“Something to live for,” he repeats back to her softly. “We’re still alive. We’re still together. Is that enough?”

 

She doesn’t know who the ‘we’ is – if he’s being purposely vague or completely direct. But as her eyes track across his lips, she suddenly finds herself surging forward because she can’t wait any longer and doesn’t want to keep talking. If he doesn’t kiss her back, if this screws absolutely everything up, well, so be it. They’re down to two months of life anyway – what’s a little extra awkwardness between friends?

 

He goes still, immobile as her lips press firmly against his, and they’re just as soft as she’d hoped they’d be. She steadies herself by pulling on the sides of his jacket before he can push her away. But then suddenly, he’s slipped a hand inside her own jacket and around her waist and is pulling her more firmly against him, insisting that she open her mouth under his. She winds her pale hands up his chest, feeling the hard strength of his muscles beneath the layers of fabric, and wraps her arms around his neck. Her fingers curl around the edges of his hair, and he makes a low guttural sound at the back of his throat.

 

When he moves his warm mouth to her neck, her eyes pop open and she notices an inviting oak tree over his shoulder. Curling her cool fingers around the side of his face, she cradles his jaw and whispers “Bellamy...” before gesturing with her head toward the tree. She reaches for his hand, interlacing their fingers, and pulls him toward it, heart thumping at double speed as her blood pulses in her ears and heats up her face.

 

He pushes her firmly back into the smooth bark of the tree, and when his hand grips underneath her thigh, she immediately lifts her leg and lets him hook it around his hip, desperate for more friction, more closeness, more of whatever he’s willing to give her. He’s looking so far down into the depths of her eyes she feels like she’s floating away from the spot they stand on. His expression is pained for a minute, so she gently tugs the back of his neck down until his forehead leans against the top of her own.

 

“What is it?” her words are quiet but laced with the edge of concern, like something as simple as a gust of wind could carry him away from her.

 

“The Raven thing, it shouldn’t have happened,” he admits. “The truth is, I was upset, too. I thought you’d left camp with Finn, that you’d left us, left me.”

 

He watches her bite her lip and nod a little.

 

“I get it, really I do. People act impulsively sometimes. I have . . . when I was upset . . . when I thought you didn’t want me.”

 

His eyes narrow a little, but he’s smiling slightly, too.

 

“Is that what this is, Clarke? An it’s-the-end-of-the-world-so-find-comfort-where-you-can thing?” he lets her leg drop softly back to the Earth.

 

Lines immediately spring up around her eyes and lips, and she opens her mouth to retort, grabbing fistfuls of his soft cotton shirt with both hands.

 

“No!” she’s shaking her head fervently, tugging him to her. “It was always you. Apocalypse or not. Don’t you know that by now?” she pleads into the air between them, breathing in his pine scent and resting against the tree as her legs shake.

 

He moves in so close to her that one palm presses into the side of the tree next to her head, and the sound of his rumbling voice against her ear sends shivers straight through her.

 

“I was hoping against hope. But it's nice to hear you say it.”

 

His hand massages the curve of her waist in a soothing way, and she closes her eyes for a moment. But then she wills herself to look back at him, to admit this.

 

“Bellamy, I wanted you for so long, but we’ve always been at war. I was so messed up after Mount Weather. And I didn’t think you’d – after everything I’d done, after I left and didn’t come home – I didn’t think you’d want me at all, not like that.”

 

A shadow passes over his face.

 

“It was never about you, or that you’d done something wrong, and I want you to know that,” she hurries on to confess into the darkness. “I’ve loved you for a long time, but I didn’t want it to be used against us. Like it was two days ago.”

 

He brings up a hand to lightly skim along her cheek, catching a teardrop on his thumb.

 

“I’d be crazy not to want you, Clarke.” He drops a soft kiss to her collarbone before pulling back to gaze down into her face. “I love you too, no matter what. I’m in love with you. I thought you knew. Everyone else seems to,” he laughs a little.

 

Her face lightens, but her eyes are still wet with a river of unshed tears as she lets out a long-held breath.

 

“I didn’t know. I thought we were _platonic_.”

 

He laughs outright at that, the deep sound echoing around the clearing. She watches the prisms of moonlight color the water silver over his shoulder.

 

“Platonic pals . . . that’s us,” he says sarcastically.

 

His hands wrap around her waist, and he smirks down at her, “Jump, Princess.”

 

A laugh escapes her lips as she leaps into the air, wrapping her legs fully around his hips and using his shoulders as leverage as he lifts her and pushes her back into the tree a little roughly. His kisses are long and deep and insistent, like he wants to become intimately acquainted with every part of her by sunrise.

 

His hands clutch at her ass, and he allows one to lazily drift up across her stomach. It leaves a trail of goosebumps in its path, before he cups her breast through her bra, firmly and possessively. She clutches at him tighter, moaning into his mouth. He presses himself into her snugly in response until she can feel his hardness pressed up against her thigh.

 

“Is this what you’re like with all your platonic friends? Because if it is, I’ve been missing out,” he huffs into her neck. She hears the rich humor in his voice, feels his teeth graze the delicate skin of her neck.

 

“No!” she breathes out, before biting his lower lip and seeking out his tongue with her own.

 

When she pulls back, she cups his face between both of her hands, letting her fingers trace the lines of his jaw, his straight nose, and the hard curves of his eyebrows.

 

“Stay safe, Bellamy. Please,” she says imploringly. “We won’t have to be apart for much longer.”

 

“Anything for you, Princess,” he returns easily, before the crack of a branch on the forest floor leaves them both looking surprised.

 

“ALIE’s drones are guarding this island from something,” Clarke whispers to him.

 

Bellamy instantly drops her lightly to the ground, pushing her behind his body and reaching for his gun. She struggles to tug her shirt down across her stomach and pull her jacket tight to her body, making sure her own gun is still in its holster.

 

But it’s just Roan, his black traveling cloak billowing out in the wind behind him as his boots trample heavily through the underbrush.

 

When he gets a little nearer, he rolls his eyes, smirking at them.

 

“Quite a display, you two,” he taunts playfully. “Glad to see you finally made your move, Wanheda.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed this short fic that's pure wish fulfillment on my part about what would have constituted a fun 406. I know this is one of people's favorites of the stories I've done, but I'm kind of curious what specifically about it you liked if you liked it. Comments are welcome - I'd love to incorporate those elements into future stories. Thanks, guys! You're the very best in the fandom. <3


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